


More Mindful Magic

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angels, Curses, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Non hockey au, Pining, Small Towns, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27162452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: Sid hasn’t been living in town for long, comparatively.Mr. Eastin, who lives beneath the docks, just celebrated his 126th birthday and Ms. Saccone, who tends to the pumpkin patch, is just behind him at 115.This isn’t the kind of town people move away from. They settle and put down roots, metaphorically and, occasionally, literally.It’s only been three or four years since Sid arrived.(Three years, eleven months, two weeks, four days and a handful of hours, to be exact. But Geno doesn’t like to admit that he can still narrow it down so precisely.)
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 150
Collections: Sid/Geno Spooky Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engineering_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engineering_fangirl/gifts).



> engineering_fangirl-- Hey! I took a look at your likes and pulled this together...hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Endless thanks to my beta, Icedbatik for helping me!

Geno stands with a wince, knees popping as he puts his hands on his hips and stretches out his back.

He’s been hunkered down behind the checkout desk for hours now, sorting through the mountain of donated books, making dozens of smaller piles out of the larger pile.

It can be tedious, to sit there and thumb through book after book, separating them into genres and then doubling back and breaking down each genre into sub-genres until they fit within the organizational system he’s developed for the store.

It can be dirty, as well. Most of the donated books he receives are old, printed long before he was born and usually they’ve been tucked away, collecting dust and cobwebs. His fingers are black with grime and, if he turns the pages too quickly, he’ll start to sneeze and cough. It’s taken years but he’s finally learned his lesson, remembering to wear darker clothing on donation days after ruining his fair share of white T-shirts and sweaters.

He still mourns the loss of his favorite cream-colored cashmere sweater from three years ago.

But still, he is thankful for the work, no matter how trying it might be. Donations like this are what keep his little bookstore, Dome Knigy, up and running and he strives to provide a wide variety of options for the people of the town to choose from. They can find everything from cookbooks and travel guides to curse casting and curse lifting and everything in between.

Geno links his fingers together and holds his arms straight out in front of himself. He rolls his shoulders and neck until he feels the tension bleed out then drops his arms with a sigh and looks around the shop with a smile.

He’s proud of what he’s been able to build here. His shop is small and cozy and it always smells of nutmeg and cinnamon thanks to a curse left behind from the previous owners. The oversized chairs by the front window are soft and comfortable and he’s fallen asleep in them more than once after a long day.

He’s created a space that people want to be in, a space where people want to spend their time. And Geno’s happy to have them, no purchase necessary. He encourages people to stop in and curl up with a good book. It makes no difference to him whether they end up buying it or sliding it back on the shelf at the end of the day. It’s not about the money. It’s about the closeness. The feeling of family.

It’s possible that Geno’s been out of a pack for too long.

The bell above the door chimes and he turns to greet the newcomer.

“Welcome to —” He cuts himself off when he sees Sid standing in the doorway, looking paler than usual. He has his left sleeve rolled up and a bandage wrapped around his arm, just beneath the bend of his elbow. “Sid. Again? Why you do this to yourself?”

Sid raises his hand to wave limply. “Hey, G.”

Geno rolls his eyes and squeezes between the stacks of books on the floor so he can get to Sid’s side. “Come sit,” he says as he carefully takes Sid by the arm. His skin is very warm. “I’m get you a snack.”

“I’m fine, honest,” Sid says, but he lets himself be led away from the door and toward one of the chairs by the front window. He sits down, heavily, then squeezes his eyes shut to fight off a round of dizziness.

“Sid, Sid, Sid,” Geno tsks. “When you ever learn?”

As one of the handful of humans in town, Sid never turns down an opportunity to donate blood to help the ever-growing number of vampires, even though donating always leaves him like this.

Geno doesn’t understand it. He’s told Sid he doesn’t understand it.

“ _They have fake blood,_ ” Geno has told him, time and time again.

“ _Flower says it doesn’t taste as good_ ,” Sid has told him right back, usually while listing pretty severely to one side and sweating.

“ _Then let Flower bite you_ ,” Geno always says. “ _Would be quicker_.”

“ _Disgusting,_ ” Sid always says right back before he leans forward and presses his head between his knees.

Geno clears off the small coffee table between the chairs and drags it closer. Then he lifts Sid’s legs — ignoring Sid’s grunt of protest — and rests them on the top.

“You crazy, Sid,” Geno tells him. “You too nice.”

Sid shrugs and Geno notices the button on the front of his shirt.

 _I Donate So You Don’t Suck_ circles the edge while a red drop of blood takes up the middle.

“Cute button,” Geno says as he flicks it.

“Thanks,” Sid says, eyes still closed. “I came up with the slogan.”

Geno huffs a laugh. “Course you did. Gonna go get you food and water.”

“I’m fine,” Sid says weakly and Geno sticks his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid, like reach out and ruffle Sid’s hair.

Sid hasn’t been living in town for long, comparatively.

Mr. Eastin, who lives beneath the docks, just celebrated his 126th birthday and Ms. Saccone, who tends to the pumpkin patch, is just behind him at 115.

This isn’t the kind of town people move away from. They settle and put down roots, metaphorically and, occasionally, literally.

It’s only been three or four years since Sid arrived.

(Three years, eleven months, two weeks, four days and a handful of hours, to be exact. But Geno doesn’t like to admit that he can still narrow it down so precisely.)

Geno can remember the first time he saw Sid like it was yesterday. It was a cold and blustery day in November when Sid stepped into the shop.

He had his coat buttoned all the way up and a scarf wound tightly around his neck. His cheeks were a pale pink from the wind and his lips were deep red and chapped.

He had asked if Geno was hiring, had said he was new in town and looking for work. Back then, Geno was just starting out on his own. He barely had enough money to pay himself, never mind an employee.

Geno couldn’t handle the disappointed look on Sid’s face and threw out Flower’s name. With two kids running and one kid crawling, Flower always needed help fixing this or adding onto that.

Flower had sent him a text not even an hour later, fuming at the idea of Geno sending a stranger to his home, where his wife and kids live.

Ten minutes later, Geno got another text.

_Disregard what I said. Sid’s awesome, you know, for a human._

Fifteen minutes after that, another one.

_What if it’s all an act, though? What if he’s just playing nice and he’s actually a huge creep? I know I’m undead, but what if this is just a ploy to get me to let my guard down before he kills me for good?_

And finally, five minutes after that:

_Kidding, kidding. Sid’s the best._

Flower was right, because Sid _is_ the best. He’s kind and sweet and funny. He doesn’t bat an eye at the ghouls and ghosts and goblins that live in town. He doesn’t care that Flower and his family drink blood, and the cross Sid wears around his neck doesn’t stop him from being friends with Tanger — who has been cast out of heaven more times than Geno can count — and he doesn’t care that Geno sheds like crazy in the spring months and thick black fur follows him everywhere, even when he’s in human form.

Sid is great. He’ll give you the shirt off his back and the blood from his veins and ask nothing in return, and Geno has loved him for every single second of those three years, eleven months, two weeks and four days.

Geno grabs a bottle of cold water out of the mini fridge in the back and the bag of homemade granola Dumo had given out to everyone in town after accidentally quadrupling the batch.

Sid tells him that he’s fine once more but he takes both the bottle and the bag and immediately tucks into both.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes,” Sid says as he takes a long drink from the bottle.

“Stay,” Geno tells him. “Have been quiet. Would be nice to have company.”

Sid sighs and finally stretches out in the chair, getting comfortable. Geno smiles as he steps back around the counter.

For the first six months, Sid worked and lived with Flower and his family. He was their handyman, their landscaper, their babysitter. He adjusted to their way of life, sleeping during the day and working at night. Geno didn’t see him all that often, but that didn’t stop his crush on Sid from growing. They’d bump into each other occasionally. Geno would be closing up shop and Sid would be walking by, coffee in hand, ready to start his day as Geno was ending his.

Sid looked beautiful in the moonlight and Geno would trip over his words while trying to make small talk. Sid would smile and touch his shoulder as he said goodbye and Geno would have to go home and shift, immediately. He’d run through the woods, trying to clear his head and burn off that nervous energy. It never seemed to work because Geno would always end up on the edge of Flower’s sprawling property, well hidden between the trees so he could watch Sid work beneath the spotlights.

Flower was heartbroken — metaphorically speaking — when Sid finally saved up enough money to get a place of his own.

“I’ll be five minutes away,” Sid had told the overly dramatic vampire, who was drunk on good blood and cheap whiskey at the local bar. “I’ll still see you all the time. I’ll still babysit your kids.”

“It won’t be the same,” Flower had said, cheek pressed against the table.

Sid had looked to Geno for help and Geno had hid his pleased smile behind another shot of vodka. Five minutes away from Flower meant five minutes closer to Geno and Geno didn’t have it in him to even pretend to be sympathetic.

Flower had been right, it wasn’t the same, and Three River’s best kept secret was out in the open.

If anyone needed anything — anything — Sid was there to help.

If something broke, he would fix it. If something needed to be painted, he would paint it.

The majority of the residents of the town had the magic to fix whatever they wanted with a snap of their fingers, but they still called on him.

Sid got flirted with by the sirens, had his cheeks pinched by the kindly old witches, and — on more than one occasion — nearly got tricked into a lifelong marriage commitment to a particularly insistent fae.

Sid’s services were in high demand, but he still found time to help Geno hang the sign for his shop for free.

“Think of it as a thank you,” Sid had said as he climbed off the ladder and looked up at his work. The gold lettering shone brightly in the sun. “You know,” he continued, “for pointing me in the right direction that day.”

“Be careful,” Geno had warned. “Flower’s head will grow too big if he hears you say nice things.”

Sid had laughed. “I mean in general. You helped me. You didn’t have to.”

“You sure you are human?” Geno had asked. “You seem too …” Too nice. Too handsome. There had to be something otherworldly at play.

But Sid had nodded and gave Geno a smile that seemed to be tinged with a hint of sadness.

“Yeah,” Sid has said, “I’m sure. I’m nothing special.”

Geno wanted to correct him but he didn’t. He still thinks about that all the time.

“What are you doing?” Geno looks up and finds Sid standing on the other side of the counter. His color has come back and the bag of granola in his hand is almost empty.

“Going through donations. Or, donation. All from one person.”

Sid’s eyes go wide. “All this is from one person?”

Geno nods. “You know Ms. Kagan?” he asks as he holds his hand up about waist high. “Little, old witch?”

Sid hums and absentmindedly rubs at his cheek.

“She retired and moved to Florida. Gave me all the books she had.”

“Retired from what?”

“Being a witch.”

“You can retire from that?”

Geno shrugs. “Can stop practicing. Is lucky thing about being a witch, can just … decide not to be one.”

“You think that makes them lucky?”

Geno shrugs again. “Gives them options. Can’t change who they are but …” He trails off, not knowing exactly where the conversation is heading.

Thankfully, Sid takes a sharp left and changes the subject. “Do you need help?” he asks. “I’m feeling better. I can help for a bit.”

Geno ducks his head and huffs a laugh. “Of course you can.”

Sid’s a quick learner, so it takes no time at all for him to fall into sync with Geno, pulling books out of the big pile and sorting them into smaller ones. Sid helps take down titles and authors for the inventory and then helps to price everything out and, finally, he helps to stock the shelves.

The work goes quickly with an extra set of hands and soon the mountain of books resembles more of a molehill.

“What are you going to do with these?” Sid asks, nudging a small stack of books with the toe of his shoe.

“Don’t know yet,” Geno says as he scribbles down another title for inventory. “Don’t know what they are. All written in dead languages. Can’t sell without knowing what they say.”

Sid frowns and sits down beside Geno. “How are you going to find out?” he asks.”

“Going to ask around. See if anyone can read it. Have some people from back home that might be able to help. Will email.”

Sid reaches for the book at the top of the stack and rests it across his thighs. The cover is jet black and plain, with no words or symbols. “You think she would have bad books?”

“I think she is 100 years old and that book is 200 years old. Maybe she not even know she had it.”

Sid nods and carefully cracks the book open, the leather creaking as the spine bends. The parchment inside is so thin and worn it’s nearly see-through and when Sid holds it up to the light it shines like a diamond. There are letters written on every other page but they’re unlike anything either has seen before. Some are just squiggles and curved lines while others are flat and straight. Some are narrow and some are thick. They don’t seem to make any sense or follow any kind pattern.

“What will you do if you find out it’s good magic?” Sid asks as he flips through the book.

“Goes on shelf to be sold. Someone will buy. Maybe.”

“And if it’s bad?”

“Then I burn it.”

Sid looks up. “Where I’m from, burning books is frowned on.”

“Well, where I’m from, not burning books like this can turn you into toad. Forever.”

Sid closes the book and hands it over to him. “You can burn that one.”

Geno takes the book and sets it down by his feet. “Thank you,” he says as the bell chimes above the door.

He pushes himself up and spends the next twenty minutes helping a guy locate half a dozen books about lunar phases.

The man seems particularly interested in Geno’s insight into the matter, asking if he has any books on wolves, as well.

When he’s done, the customer leaves his cell number on the mailing list at the register and leaves the store with a smile while Geno rubs his hand over the back of his neck, trying to worry away the flush he feels there.

Sid is still sitting quietly behind the register, thumbing thoughtfully through the books. The one he has open in his lap currently has text that mirrors English in some twisted sort of way. It takes Geno a moment to notice that Sid’s lips are moving as he attempts to sound out the words and Geno immediately swoops down and grabs the book from Sid’s hands.

“Can’t do that, Sid! Should know you shouldn’t read what you don’t understand.”

“What does it matter?” Sid asks. “I’m not magic, I can’t do anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Geno says. He snaps the book shut and sparks fly out of the pages. “Don’t want to take chance.”

Sid holds his hands up. “Okay. Sorry.” He pushes himself up off the floor and dusts his hands against the back of his jeans. “I should get going anyway. It’s been a while and Sam is waiting for me.”

“Ah,” Geno says, trying to sound casual. Sid laughs.

“I can’t believe you don’t like her.”

“Like her just fine,” Geno says. “She don’t like me.”

“That is not true. Sam likes everyone.”

“Not me,” Geno argues. “She like … mark her territory. Don’t want me around.”

Sid laughs even harder and Geno rolls his eyes.

“Is canine thing, Sid. You don’t get it.”

“I guess not.” He smiles at Geno. “You should come out with us tonight. Flower said something about wanting to try out the fresh blood.”

“He gonna get drunk.”

“Yeah, but Vero will be there, so …”

“So they both get drunk.”

Sid grins. “It’ll be hilarious. You should come.”

“I’m think about it.”

“You’re coming. I’ll drag you out of your house if I have to.”

“You very serious about this.”

“You’ve been working hard today,” Sid says as he nods to the books. “You work hard everyday. You deserve a break.”

Geno can’t argue with that and he has a feeling Sid wouldn’t allow it even if he tried. “Okay,” he says and Sid’s face lights up. “I will see you there.”

_____

“Oh, this is definitely Sid,” Flower says as he holds the glass up to the light. The blood sloshes over the side and drops onto Flower’s fingers. He’s quick to lick it off then smacks his lips and turns to his wife. “Can’t you taste it?”

“It is very sweet,” Vero says, swirling the viscous liquid in her own glass.

“It tastes like —” Flower takes another sip and makes a show of savoring it. “It tastes like competition. Like it has to be better than all the other blood types out there. And it tastes a little nerdy, a little dorky. Like it knows way too much about history and just has to tell you all about it.”

“Okay,” Sid says from the opposite side of the booth. “I think I get it.”

“No,” Flower says, grinning. “I don’t think you do.”

“You know you talk a lot of shit for a guy that cried when I moved out of your house,” Sid shoots back and Geno laughs into his beer while Flower shakes his head.

“I didn’t cry,” Flower defends. “It’s actually impossible for me to cry.” He turns to Vero. “Tell them I didn’t cry.”

“He didn’t cry,” Vero says. When Flower turns away she mouths “He totally cried” and runs a fingertip down her cheek to mime a tear. When Flower looks back to her she smiles and reaches out to run her fingers through his hair. “Come dance with me,” she says, changing the subject as she slides out of the booth.

Flower, of course, follows and Sid presses his shoulder against Geno’s.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” Sid asks and Geno nods.

“Very glad,” he tells him. It’s nice to be out, hanging out with his friends, pressed against Sid in the booth. It feels like the whole town is here, drinking, dancing and having fun. It’s crowded and loud but all Geno can focus on is Sid’s lopsided smile and how they’re touching from their shoulders to their hips and down to their knees.

Sid takes another drink, lips curving around the opening of the bottle. When he pulls off he raises his beer toward the bar.

“Look who’s here.”

The man from the bookstore is leaning against the bar, drink in hand as he laughs at something the bartender has said.

“He was flirting with you,” Sid says quietly. “A lot.”

“Not think you notice that.”

Sid huffs. “It was hard not to. He wasn’t being subtle.” Sid sets his bottle down and starts to pick at the label. “Are you gonna go talk to him?”

Geno shakes his head. “No, don’t think so. Not really feel anything there, you know?”

Sid purses his lips and nods. “What do you think he is?”

Geno shrugs. He didn’t feel a pull one way or the other with him. Nothing seemed to glow. “Probably human.”

Sid’s lips form a thin line as he scrapes at the bottle with his fingertips. “Is that why you’re not interested?”

“What?” Geno shakes his head and lays his hand across Sid’s forearm. “Sid, that’s not —”

There’s a loud crash from the back of the bar, like someone being thrown against a wall, that catches everyone’s attention. Conversations fall silent but the music plays on and just above the beat they can hear another bang and someone yelling for help.

No one moves for a moment. Then Sid finally snaps out of it and shoves at Geno’s shoulder.

Once Sid moves everyone else seems to as well, crowding their way toward the back and down the hall toward the restrooms.

They turn a corner and there, on the ground, is the body of a man with a cloaked figure hovering in front of him.

Over Sid’s shoulder, Geno recognizes the man on the floor as Jake, a young human who has been spending a lot of time with Sid lately, going out on jobs with him as something of an apprentice. Geno knows how much Sid has come to care about him. He knows how they’ve bonded over both being human in a town filled with magic.

Jake coughs, proving that he’s still alive, and Sid moves forward but Geno reaches out and holds him back, fingertips digging into Sid’s biceps hard enough to bruise. Geno doesn’t know who or what this figure is. He doesn’t know what it’s done to Jake or what it could do to Sid.

The figure is featureless, nothing but a black abyss that floats silently at Jake’s feet. The sleeve of its cloak rises but no hand pokes out from the end of it and Jake screams in pain, his body curling into a ball before he goes limp.

Sid breaks free of Geno’s hold and lurches forward at the figure, which disappears into thin air.

Sid kneels beside Jake and gently lifts his head into his lap. “Jake,” Sid says as someone behind Geno yells at someone else to call 9-1-1. “C’mon, buddy," Sid continues, his hands on either side of Jake’s face. Jake doesn’t move. Geno can barely tell if he’s breathing or not. When Geno looks at Sid, Sid’s looking back with steel in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you let me go sooner?” he snaps. “You should have let me go. I could’ve helped.”

“How, Sid? With what magic?”

Sid clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes, annoyed that Geno pointed out his weakness. There’s not much a human can do in the face of magic. Jake is cold, hard evidence of that.

“Is he okay?” Geno asks. Sid shakes his head but presses his fingertips to the hinge of Jake’s jaw, feeling for a pulse.

“He’s still alive,” Sid says. “Ugh,” he adds with a grimace. “Look at this.” He moves the collar of Jake’s shirt to the side and Geno steps forward and bends down so he can get a good look. There’s a mark across Jake’s collarbone. It looks almost like a bruise but the edges are clean and defined as it curves it’s way over his skin. Sid touches it lightly and it seems to bloom, snaking its way down Jake’s chest and over his arms in various shades of black, purple and blues. “What is this?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head.

He has no idea.

Sid stays on the ground with Jake, his hand over Jake’s still beating heart, until the paramedics arrive. They get as much information as they can out of Sid and Geno and whoever else might have seen something. There’s not much to tell, which means there’s not much for doctors or curse breakers to go off of, but it’s all they can do.

“Will he be okay?” Sid asks one of the paramedics.

“I don’t know anything right now,” the paramedic answers, “but I hope so.”

The crowd has thinned considerably by the time the ambulance pulls away. Apparently not many people are in the mood to have a good time after someone is rushed to the hospital.

“Are you leaving?” Geno asks Sid as Sid leans into their booth to grab his coat. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You live closer,” Sid says as he pulls his coat on. “I’ll walk you home.”

They walk quickly and with just enough space between them so their shoulders don’t brush.

It’s a little awkward and Geno’s sure Sid’s still cross with him for holding him back until Sid speaks.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Sid apologizes.

“Is okay, Sid.”

“No, you were just looking out for me. It sounded like I blamed you for what happened and that’s not it at all.”

“I’m know, Sid.”

“I just wanted to help.”

“Know you did, Sid.” It’s just like him, to always want to help, to always want to fix.

“I just don’t get it,” Sid says with a shake of his head. “Who would want to curse Jake? He was — is — harmless. I don’t think the kid had an enemy.”

“Maybe was his friends, you know, joking around.”

“His friends?” Sid questions. “Friends don’t do that. People don’t do that.”

“Not everyone is like you, Sid.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Not everyone is good, you know. Caring.”

Sid shakes his head. “I don’t believe anyone can be _that_ terrible.”

Geno doesn’t argue. He doesn’t want to burst Sid’s bubble with stories about how terrible people can really be. He has them by the dozens. He carries them around with him wherever he goes. Some are his own, from growing up different in a town far from here, and some are his ancestors, fleeing their homes with fire nipping at their heels.

They slip back into silence, Sid’s hands shoved down deep in his pockets and Geno’s arms crossed over his chest. It’s cooler out than Geno expected it to be and the thin coat he’s wearing isn’t trapping much heat.

“You can shift if you’re cold,” Sid says. “You know I don’t mind. I’ll even hold your clothes for you.”

“Almost home,” Geno tells him as he wills his teeth to stop chattering. “Would be more work than it is worth.”

“Then do you want my jacket?” Sid asks, hands sliding out of the pockets and settling on the zipper. Sid’s jacket is thick and warm, made from a heavy flannel. It’s tempting but Geno shakes his head.

“Am okay, really.”

Sid puts his hands back into his pockets and mumbles something about Geno being a stubborn ass under his breath and Geno grins and knocks their shoulders together.

They linger in front of Geno’s brownstone, the one that Geno is only able to afford because of what the previous tenants left in the basement. He has his keys in his hands and one foot up on the stoop and Sid is leaning against the railing, not looking at all like he’s ready to say goodbye. The street lamp flickers on the sidewalk and Geno can see the outline of Milla perched in the front window. He can imagine her ears pinned back against her head and her tail flicking, clearly annoyed that she’s had to wait this long to go to bed.

Geno looks back to Sid, who is chewing at his bottom lip.

“Jake will be okay,” Geno tells him. “Doctors will help him while curse breakers figure it out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

Geno shrugs. “Sometimes magic is.”

Sid nods but still doesn’t make any move to head home himself. “This might sound bad, but before the whole thing with Jake, I was actually having a really nice time. I’m glad you decided to come.”

“You threaten to drag me out of my house if I don’t,” Geno says and Sid smiles up at him. “But,” Geno adds, “I had a good time, too. Happy I came.”

Sid nods. He’s still smiling as the flickering lamp bathes him in light and then shadows, light and shadows. “We should, maybe — if you want — do it again sometime. Just the two of us.”

Geno opens his mouth to answer — because yes, yes he would like to do it again — when something small pings off the window. Milla jumps off the windowsill and the object falls to the ground while another lands on Sid’s shoulder.

The bat squeaks and tucks its wings against its body. Sid rolls his eyes.

“Vero,” he tells Geno before he slips between the stoop and Geno’s recycling bin, eyes scanning the ground. He leans down and picks up a second bat, which squeaks loudly and tries to flap its wings. “And Flower,” Sid says. “Totally shit-faced.”

“Wonder where they get off to,” Geno says as he reaches his index finger out to pet Flower’s head. Flower screeches.

“I gotta take them home,” Sid says. “I don’t know how many more windows Flower can hit before he causes some property damage.”

“You good friend,” Geno says and Sid shrugs.

“Not really. I just know what whatever he breaks I’ll have to fix. I’ll see you, okay?”

Geno nods. “See you, Sid.”

He watches Sid walk down the block until he turns the corner then he climbs the stairs to his front door and unlocks it.

Milla greets him and winds her way around his legs, purring the whole while.

“Am home,” Geno says as he bends down to pet her. “Missed you, too.”

He drops his key in the bowl by the door and hangs his coat in the hallway and wanders into the kitchen, Milla following close behind. When Geno stops at the sink she jumps up onto the counter and butts her head against Geno’s arm.

“Know you not supposed to be up there,” Geno says as he reaches for a glass and fills it with tap water. Milla meows and stands on her hind legs so she can tap at Geno’s face with her front paw, begging him for attention.

Geno hums and sets the glass in the sink then picks up his cat and cradles her close to his chest. He shuts off the light in the kitchen and locks the door then heads upstairs to his bedroom.

_____

The following morning, Geno wakes to Milla leaning all her weight on her front paws while she stands on his chest.

Geno groans and pushes her gently with his forearm but Milla is undeterred and walks the rest of the way up his chest so she can headbutt him.

“Okay, all right,” Geno says in Russian while Milla purrs. “I’m awake. I’ll feed you now.”

He gets up and jams his feet into his slippers and pulls on the robe that’s hanging on the back of the door. The house is chilly and, when he opens the blinds, the sky outside is dark and grey. He was sure the forecast had called for sunshine.

Milla dances around his feet all the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He feeds her then fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove to heat.

Tightening the robe around his body even further, Geno heads to the front door so he can grab the morning paper off the front stoop. He shivers against the cold wind and darts back inside, paper in hand.

He shakes it out of the plastic bag and unrolls it as he walks back to the kitchen. Milla is almost done with her breakfast and she whines at him for more.

Geno smiles and shakes his finger at her. “No more,” he says. “The vet warned me last time that you’re getting too heavy.”

Milla flicks her tail and wanders out of the kitchen while Geno leans back against the counter, ankles crossed, and scans the front page.

He had been expecting last night’s incident to take top billing but he wasn’t expecting to see the photos of three other humans beside Jake’s.

Geno’s heart pounds and his throat feels tight as he skims the article. According to witnesses, all three humans were attacked last night by the same cloaked figure. There was nothing they could do to stop it, magic or not, and by the time the figure disappeared the humans were left unconscious with a barely beating heart and branded skin.

The _humans_ , Geno reads again and again. The _humans_ were attacked, experts are being called in to examine the _humans_ , only _humans_ are believed to be in danger.

A cold feeling of dread settles in Geno’s stomach as he drops the paper and — after just barely remembering to shut off the stove — he bolts from the house.

Sid’s house isn’t that far away but Geno is running in slippers and dodging early morning commuters and children making their way to school.

He hops off the sidewalk, losing a slipper in the process, and runs down the middle of the road, trusting that any cars he sees will stop before they hit him.

His lungs are burning and his robe is twisted awkwardly around his body by the time he turns off the road and runs up Sid’s short driveway. Sid’s car is still parked outside and Geno throws himself up the front steps and against the door. He slams his firsts against it as he calls Sid’s name, but there’s no answer. Sam doesn’t even start to bark. He backs up and weighs the pros and cons of kicking down the door versus breaking a window to get in. He decides to go through a window and, when he turns to run back down the stairs to look for a rock or a stick, anything he can find to break the glass, Sid is standing there with Sam at his side looking extremely confused.

“G? Was that you yelling?”

Geno’s whole body sags in relief and his legs feel like jelly as he runs down the stairs and throws his arms around Sid.

Sid staggers back, barely catching Geno’s weight as Sam barks, clearly unhappy that Geno’s invading Sid’s space.

“What’s the matter?” Sid asks as he rubs Geno’s back. “What’s wrong?”

Geno takes a gasping breath as he untangles himself from Sid. He tries to speak but he can’t get enough air so he holds out one finger before leaning down and bracing his hands on his knees.

“Did you run here?” Sid asks, still trying to piece things together. “What are you wearing? You’re barefoot. You’re bleeding.”

Geno picks up his left foot and sees blood left behind on the pavement. He must have stepped on glass at some point and he didn't even feel it.

“Am fine,” Geno huffs. “Don’t worry. You see paper this morning?”

“I think you should sit down,” Sid says, his hand on Geno’s shoulder.

Geno shakes his head and stumbles back down the drive to where Sid’s paper is sitting, still in the bag and unread.

Geno slides it free of the plastic and holds the front page out for Sid to see. “Look,” he says and Sid’s eyebrows knit together as he reads.

“More of them,” Sid says, “all human.”

Geno nods and Sid clenches his jaw. “Had to make sure you were okay,” Geno tells him. “Is why I run here.”

“Why didn’t you just call me? Or text?”

Geno blinks and heaves a sigh as he throws his arms up in the air. “Don’t know. Don’t think. Just run.”

Sid gives him a look that can only be described as fond. “Come inside, I’ll clean you up.”

“Don’t want to get blood on floor.”

“Then sit out here and wait,” Sid says as he leads Geno by the arm back toward the steps, where Geno sits down heavily. “I’ll be right back.”

“Sid, wait.” Geno leans back and reaches for him, not wanting to let Sid out of his sight but Sid slips free and disappears through the door and into the house.

Geno twists around, watching and waiting for him to return. Thankfully, less than thirty seconds later, Sid emerges with an armful of supplies. He sets them down then sits beside Geno and pulls Geno’s foot into his lap.

“Where did you lose the slipper?” Sid asks as he wipes away blood and dirt to look at the cut.

“Don’t know,” Geno says, trying to hide how he winces at the pain. “Somewhere close to home.”

Sid shakes his head as he dabs a peroxide-soaked cotton swab against the wound. “You could’ve shifted. You would have gotten here faster and I have to think that paws are a little bit tougher than feet.” He lightly draws a line up the center of Geno’s foot and Geno jerks back with a laugh, momentarily forgetting the pain.

“I tell you I don't think.”

Sid hums and smooths a bandage over the cut. “Good as new,” he says, “but I am going to give you a ride back to your place. It’s right on my way to my first job.”

“Not going to a job today, Sid.”

“I have work to do.”

“You not see paper, Sid?” Geno shouts and Sam barks. “Sorry,” he says to her before he turns back to Sid. “Am sorry but … no. Can’t let you do that.”

“You can’t _let_ me?”

“Was four people — humans — last night. Maybe is four more today, maybe five, maybe six. Won’t let you be one of them.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Come to the shop with me. I can watch, I can keep you safe.”

“How are you going to do that? No one else managed to keep any of the others safe.”

“They were unprepared,” Geno says with a wave of his hand. “Will be safer in my shop.”

Sid sighs and carefully sets Geno’s foot back down on the steps. “You think something will happen to me?”

“Think you shouldn’t be alone. Is not safe now.”

Sid doesn’t say anything for a moment. He just sits there and rubs at Sam’s ears when she puts her head in his lap. “Will it make you feel better if I come with you?” he finally asks and Geno nods. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

Geno sighs in relief. “Good, Sid. Is good.”

Sid nods. “Can we take my truck or do we have to run?”

_____

Sam waits in the truck while Sid follows Geno into his house so he can get ready for work.

“You didn’t even lock the door,” Sid says as Geno opens it without the key.

“Am lucky I remember to close it. Would be terrible if Milla got out.”

On cue, Milla trots down the hallway, delighted to see Geno again so soon. She sniffs at Geno for a moment before she moves on to Sid and twirls herself between his legs.

“Cat is cheater,” Geno says as he starts up the stairs. “Will be quick.”

“Take your time,” Sid tells him as he kneels down and Milla flops over, begging for more attention.

When Geno comes downstairs Sid and Milla have moved to the kitchen, where Sid has turned the kettle back on and is waiting for it to boil.

Geno stands in the doorway and watches Sid move around his kitchen, opening up cabinets in search of the tea.

“Second one on left,” Geno says and Sid nods and opens the correct cabinet.

“What kind of tea do you want?” Sid asks as he stares at the boxes and tins.

“You pick,” Geno tells him as he grabs a to-go mug for himself and a second for Sid.

Geno is late to open the store but it’s not as if there’s anyone waiting for him.

Geno unlocks the door and holds it open for Sid, who leads Sam inside while carrying her dog bed and a water bowl.

Sid gets her settled by the front window then wanders through the stacks of books, grabbing anything that looks interesting while Geno pretends to work instead of watching Sid’s every move.

It’s easier to keep an eye on him when Sid collapses into one of the chairs by the front window, Sam in her dog bed by his feet.

Geno taps at the keys on his laptop, sending emails to anyone he thinks might be able to decode the unknown books. He types a sentence then glances up to check on Sid. He types and checks, types and checks, types and checks.

There’s nothing new to see each time he looks except maybe Sid putting down one book and picking up another.

He looks calm and relaxed, certainly more than Geno feels, curled up with his feet tucked beneath him. Every so often he’ll stop thumbing through the book he’s holding and stare out the window at the cold, grey sky. Geno doubts they’ll see the sun until they figure this whole thing out, but it’s okay. He thinks Sid looks good in any kind of light.

The hours tick by and the streets and the shop remain quiet. Pedestrians walk by every now and then, bundled up in thick coats and hats. A few slow outside the shop door and look like they’re thinking of coming in before they catch sight of Sid and hurry along. If Sid notices he doesn’t say anything.

Geno’s laptop dings as the email he just sent bounces back. He squints at the screen, vision blurring from how long he’s been at it, then sits back and rubs at his eyes. “You want more tea, Sid?” he asks. “Can make you coffee.”

Sid closes the book he’s reading and unfolds his legs. “Actually, I think I’m going to take Sam for a walk.”

“Not by yourself,” Geno says quickly.

“Just around the block. I’ll be fast.”

“Not safe, Sid.”

“Then come with me.”

“Shop is open.”

“No one has come in all morning.”

“Has been slow,” Geno murmurs and Sid rolls his eyes.

“It’s been dead. I’ll have to take Sam out eventually. Let's all get some fresh air.”

Geno sighs and grabs his keys. “Okay,” he agrees, “but very quick. Just one block.”

Sam pulls on her leash as they walk down the sidewalk, excited to get out and stretch her legs.

Sid tells her to take it easy but Geno suspects he must secretly be pleased that she still has all this energy at her age.

When they hit the end of the block Sid gives Geno a sidelong look and keeps walking, like he’s trying to figure out how much he can get away with.

They’re three blocks away when they see a woman coming toward them. She takes one look at Sid and crosses the street to walk on the other side. It happens twice more and after the third time Sid heaves a sigh and turns around.

Geno bumps their shoulders together. “Is not personal, Sid.”

“How can it not be personal? They crossed the street to avoid me. It happened at the store, too. Don’t act like you didn’t see it happen.”

“They just nervous now.”

“What, do they think they’re gonna get cursed just by being close to me? It’s only been humans.”

“So far,” Geno says. “Lots we still don’t know.”

“You’re here. You’re not afraid of me.”

“Of course not.”

“If they found out it was possible for you to get cursed just for being around me would you —”

Geno steps in front of him and puts both hands on Sid’s shoulders. “No, Sid. I’m here, nothing will scare me away.”

“But what if —”

He squeezes Sid’s shoulders. “I’m here. Am going to keep you safe, okay? You believe me?”

Sid swallows and nods. “I believe you,” he says and Geno nods back, knowing there’s no way for Sid to understand how far he would go to protect him.

Geno would give his own life for Sid. He wouldn’t think twice. He’s sure that Sid would take care of Milla for him and probably the shop, as well. He’d live a good life and that would make Geno’s sacrifice worth it.

“What are you thinking about?” Sid asks when they’re nearly back to the shop. Geno has the keys clenched in his hands and he’s rubbing his thumb over the jagged edge.

“Should come home with me tonight,” Geno says. “Stay with me.”

Sid shakes his head. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Have a spare room,” Geno says. “Is no big deal. C’mon, Sid. If it not safe for you to be alone in the day, why would it be okay at night?”

“I’d have to bring, Sam.”

Geno nods and looks down at the dog. “You know I have Milla.”

Sid shrugs. “Sam loves cats.”

“Are you saying yes?”

The corner of Sid’s mouth twitches up as he lays his hand atop Sam’s head. “Are _you_ saying yes?”

Geno looks down at Sam and swears he sees her eyes narrow. “Yes, yes, of course. You both are welcome to stay for as long as you need.”

They’re both pink cheeked from the cold and the wind when they get back to the store. Sam drinks her entire bowl of water then flops down on her bed and immediately begins to snore.

“You have to give me something to do,” Sid says as he unwinds his scarf from around his neck and hangs it on the coat rack. “I’ve read all the books.”

“Hard to believe in a bookstore, Sid.”

“You know what I mean. I can’t sit still anymore. There has to be something I can fix or build or organize.”

Geno looks around like a chore is going to magically appear. There’s nothing to fix because Sid has already fixed it all.

“Can clean coffee maker in back,” Geno tells him. “Don’t use it much so don’t clean it much.”

“You offered to make me coffee earlier.”

“Is good thing you say no then.”

While Sid cleans the coffee machine to a condition that Geno’s sure will be better than brand new, Geno flips through books about wards, trying to find the right one.

Some are overly complicated, requiring too many ingredients or magic that Geno doesn’t have. Others are far too simple, only designed to stop benign and playful curses.

“What are you doing?” Sid asks, appearing at Geno’s elbow with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands.

“You done with machine already?”

“It’s been almost two hours,” Sid says. “You didn’t say it was one of those fancy espresso machines. I can’t believe you don’t use it. It must have cost a fortune.”

Geno hums. He had gotten it second-hand, but it was still an investment. “When I first open store, I think maybe I will have a little cafe too. Sell pastries and coffee.” He shrugs. It was a nice idea. It’s still a nice idea. “Didn’t work out. Tastes good?” Geno asks as Sid takes a long sip.

Sid nods and holds the cup out to Geno. “Do you want a sip?”

Geno shakes his head and Sid props his hip against the counter. “You didn’t answer my question. What are these books about?”

“Learning about wards,” Geno tells him as he closes the book in front of him. “Going to protect the house. Put above doors, windows, make it more safe.”

“Is this place protected?”

Geno shakes his head. “Not yet. Is hard to protect a public space. Harder for me,” he adds. “Once I figure out how to protect home, will do the same for store.”

“Is it a lot of work?” Sid asks and Geno shakes his head.

“Won’t be,” he tells him, “once I find right one.” He drums his fingers against the stack of books he’s already looked through. “Can put those back if you feel bored.”

Sid sets down his cup and gives Geno a mock salute before he grabs the books and heads off to file them.

Geno orders take-out for lunch. The delivery boy, a fae, takes one wide-eyed look at Sid and runs off before Geno can even give him his tip.

“Don’t deserve it,” Geno says as he pockets his money and turns back to Sid.

Sid nods and does a good job at hiding his hurt.

Geno closes the shop an hour early that night. He’s found the proper ward and doesn’t see the point in sticking around. It’s dusk and the thought of being out too late makes him nervous. He wants to get home and protect his house for Sid.

“I need clothes,” Sid says as he starts his truck.

“Can borrow some of mine.”

“A toothbrush?”

“I have spare.”

“Sam needs food.”

Geno sighs. There’s not much he can do about that and Sid seems to know it going by the grin on his face.

“Okay,” Geno says, “but be quick.”

Geno follows Sid into his house, much to the ire of Sam.

“I’ll be right back,” Sid calls over his shoulder as he runs up the stairs. Geno rolls his eyes and runs after him. They’re here for Sam’s food and Geno’s sure Sid doesn’t keep that upstairs. “I’ll really only be a second,” Sid says as he grabs a duffel bag from the closet and fills it with clothes from the dresser. Geno’s not sure how long Sid intends to stay with him but it looks like he’s packing for a while.

Sid fills the bag, zips it up and hefts it onto his shoulder. He disappears into the adjoining bathroom and Geno stands in the doorway as he tucks his toothbrush and his razor into the front pocket.

“I tell you I have spares,” Geno says flatly and Sid nods.

“I heard you. I just need to grab Sam’s food then we can go.”

Geno trails after him back down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stands in the doorway as Sid fills a reusable shopping bag with containers of fresh, raw dog food from the fridge.

It fits. Sid’s the type to give Sam the best of everything, to ensure that her golden years are her finest.

Sid grabs a few bottles of Sam’s supplements off the counter while Geno watches the sky get darker and darker outside the window.

“Sid,” Geno warns and Sid nods and grabs a bag of treats.

“I’m ready,” Sid says, “lets go.”

It’s a tense ride back to Geno’s and, when Sid slows down in front of his place, Geno hops out before Sid has the truck in park.

“Come on,” Geno says as he rounds the front of the truck and pulls open Sid’s door. “Out, inside.”

“Okay,” Sid says as he tries to grab his bags and Sam’s leash, “just a second.”

“Now,” Geno orders. “Take Sam, I come back for rest. Just get inside.”

Geno uses his body like a shield and hurries Sid and Sam into the house then he jogs back down the steps and grabs Sid’s bags out of the truck.

When he gets back inside, Sid’s standing there in the hallway, still holding Sam’s leash and looking unsure.

“Make yourself at home,” Geno tells him as he sets his bags down and takes off his coat. He hangs it on one of the hooks behind the door and toes off his shoes.

“Can I let Sam go?” he asks and Geno nods.

“Yes, mean for both of you to be at home. Milla is probably still upstairs sleeping. Usually not home so early and she keeps to strict schedule. Will have to meet Sam when she wakes up.”

Sid unclips Sam’s leash then takes off his coat. He hangs them both on the same hook beside Geno’s jacket before he takes off his shoes, careful to line them up neatly against the wall.

“You hungry for dinner or you want to wait?” Geno asks as he picks up Sid’s bags and carries them down the hall toward the spare room off the kitchen. “Have soup. Made it a few weeks ago and froze leftovers. Is always hard to cook for one person.”

“I know the feeling,” Sid says as he follows Geno into the guest room.

It isn’t much to look at, with its white walls and bland, mismatched furniture but the mattress is comfortable enough and he’s sure he can make Sid feel safe here.

He sets Sid’s bag down on the old trunk at the foot of the bed. “Should be enough room in here or in dresser if you want to unpack. Up to you. I can put Sam’s food in fridge.”

“Thank you,” Sid says. “I think I’ll unpack. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

Geno puts his hands on Sid’s shoulder. “Until it is safe. You will stay until it is safe.”

“Thank you,” Sid tells him before he clears his throat, like he’s trying to push the emotion away. “For everything.”

“Haven’t really done anything yet,” Geno says. He still has the wards to make and the soup to heat up and an entire night that Sid has to make it through. “Come out when you ready,” Geno tells him as he backs toward the door, nearly tripping over Sam on his way. “Bathroom is on other side of the kitchen but shower is upstairs if you want to take one.”

“I know,” Sid says with a small smile, “I helped fix both sinks when they started to leak, remember? If there’s anything you need me to do while I’m here —”

“Need you to relax,” Geno says and Sid rolls his eyes.

“No promises.”

Geno leaves Sid to unpack and, after he puts Sam’s food in the fridge, he grabs a pair of garden shears out of the drawer beside the fridge and heads out back.

Most of his herbs are past their prime but they’ll work well enough for the ward. He takes the instructions that he carefully copied down onto a piece of printer paper out of his back pocket and double checks what he needs.

With more than a dozen doors and windows to protect, he'll just about clear-cut his garden. Along with the herbs he needs bark from the white birch tree at the edge of his property and fresh soil dug beneath the moonlight. Geno looks up as the clouds part just enough for the moon to peek out. It’ll have to do.

He clips the herbs and puts the bark and the dirt in plastic bags then goes back inside to collect the rest of the items.

He needs thread from a beloved item of clothing, pennies minted before 1985, and trinkets from a past life.

He takes a pair of scissors to the sweater that his mother knit for him before he left home and digs through the coffee can on his dresser where he dumps his loose change to find the pennies. Milla is curled into a tight ball on his bed, sleeping soundly, but she wakes when Geno upends the can of coins onto the comforter to make his hunt easier.

She makes an unhappy noise as she stands up and stretches then bats at Geno’s hands as he picks up pennies and squints at the dates.

“Busy,” he says as he tries to brush her away but she is undeterred and Geno’s heart is soft so he picks her up and lets her climb onto his shoulder as he looks.

He leaves the coins on the bed when he finds the right amount of pennies and digs further into his closet for the shoe box filled with old buttons that he and his grandfather used to collect. He grabs a handful then goes downstairs to spread all the items out on the kitchen table. Milla jumps off his shoulder and onto the floor, where she wanders into the spare room, curious as to why the door is open.

“Sam, be gentle,” Geno hears Sid say. When Milla doesn’t come tearing out of the room and Sam doesn’t yelp from getting swatted across the nose, Geno assumes it’s all going well and gives his full attention to the task at hand.

Everything needs to be arranged just so and in the right order or else he runs the risk of the wards not working at all. He layers the herbs in fourteen different piles on a square of parchment then sprinkles on enough dirt to bury the penny and the button.

“Can I help?” Sid asks, standing in the doorway with Sam and Milla at his feet.

“Ah,” Geno says as he looks down at the table, trying to figure out how to say this politely. “Human hand —”

“I get it,” Sid says quickly.

“Would probably be fine,” Geno tells him, “but don’t want to take chance. My own magic is —” He stops and shakes his head. “Weak. Not right. Would be better if I was witch or something but —”

“Some magic is better than none,” Sid finishes. Geno snorts.

“No, magic is why I have to do this. You have right idea, magic is nothing but trouble.” Geno looks down at the instructions and runs his fingertip over the one item that he’s still missing. “Do need one thing from you,” he says and Sid nods.

“For sure, anything.”

Geno takes a pair of scissors out of the drawer and holds them out to Sid, handle first. Sid’s eyes go wide.

“Need little bit of hair,” Geno says, “so it knows who to protect.”

“Oh,” Sid says with a laugh as he presses his hand to his heart. “For some reason I thought you were asking for blood.” He lifts his hand from his chest to his hair and runs his fingers through it. “It’s longest at the back, I guess,” he says as he turns around. “Have at it. I trust you.”

“Oh,” Geno says quietly as he readjusts his grip on the scissors, curling his fingers through the handle. He steps forward and he tries to spot the best place to snip. Every unruly curl seems too perfect. He can’t imagine ruining a single one. He takes a deep breath and tells himself it’s for the greater good as he winds his finger around one incredibly soft lock of hair and cuts it off.

“Okay,” Geno says, hair pinched between his forefinger and thumb. “All done. All I need.”

Sid runs his hand over the back of his head like he’s trying to feel where Geno cut then turns around. “What about you?”

“Don’t need to be protected,” Geno says with a shake of his head. “Wards get less powerful the more they protect.”

“You think it’ll work?” Sid asks and Geno sighs as he looks over the table at the piles of random items.

“Yes,” Geno says because he needs it to. “Think it will.”

While Sid’s upstairs showering, Geno gets the frozen soup into a pot and turns the burner on medium. He leaves it to heat up then goes back to work on the wards.

He double and triple checks the directions to make sure everything is placed in the right order then rolls the parchment up and secures it with the thread from his sweater.

He’s tying the last few when his phone rings in his back pocket. He ignores it but, as soon as the ringing stops, it starts right back up again. The caller is clearly persistent. After the third missed call, Geno gives in and answers it, rolling his eyes when he sees Flower’s name on the screen.

“Am busy,” Geno says into his phone. “Talk fast.”

“Where is Sid?” Flower says back, panic running through his voice. “I’ve been trying to call him and I can’t get an answer. Is he okay, do you know where he is?”

“Sid is fine,” Geno assures. The water is still running upstairs, he can hear it moving through the pipes. “Is in the shower. Must have left phone downstairs.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Flower says on a sigh. Geno distantly hears him call for Vero to let her know. “You’re sure he’s okay? He’s not …”

“Yes, yes, he’s fine. Trust me.”

“Okay,” Flower says, finally sounding like he’s calming down. “He’s in the shower? Are you at his house?”

“He is at mine. Thought it would be safer to be in a house with some magic. Am making wards now.”

“You know I was going to ask him if he wanted to stay with us, but I think he’s got a better deal with you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I mean you can give him things that I can’t. Well, I can but I’m not going to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go hop in that shower with him.”

“Flower!”

“What! Now’s your chance and it’s a good chance! You’re together, you’re alone, you’re protecting him —”

“From curse that has already taken four humans.”

“Four?” Flower repeats. “You haven’t haven’t heard the news?”

“Been at work,” Geno says, worry creeping into his heart and making his extremities go cold. “Why?”

“Six more humans have been cursed,” Flower tells him and. Geno leans heavily against the table. “That’s ten now and I don’t even know how many more they’ll find overnight.”

Geno feels his stomach roll as he looks down at the wards. In the wake of the bad news they seem small and pathetic and unable to stop such great evil. Maybe Sid would be better off at Flower’s. Maybe Geno should throw Sid in the truck and drive as fast as he can in any direction. How far can a curse possibly reach?

“Geno?” Flower asks and Geno shakes himself from his thoughts.

“Am still here. Just thinking.”

“There’s a lot to think about,” Flower says. “Call me if you need anything — you know we’ll be up all night — and just … take care of him.”

“Know I will,” Geno says before he hangs up and finishes tying the wards.

He sets one above the front door and one above the back door, along with the door that leads down to the basement and the door to Sid’s room, just to be safe, before doubling back and setting one above each of the windows. He does the same to the windows upstairs until the only one left is the one in the bathroom.

Sid has left the door cracked, steam curling out into the hall, while Sam and Milla wait outside.

Geno knocks his fist against the door frame and calls Sid’s name.

“Have to get to window,” Geno announces. “You almost done?”

“You can come in,” Sid says back as he pulls open the door.

Sid is dressed, thankfully, in sweats and a T-shirt, and he’s roughly rubbing a towel over his wet hair. Geno gets stuck on Sid’s bare feet, oddly delicate against the bathmat, and the knob of his ankle where the sweats have ridden up.

“Uh,” Geno says from the doorway and Sid lowers the towel, leaving his hair in damp, spiky points.

“Is that the last one?” Sid asks, chin jutting out to gesture to the ward in Geno’s hand as he drapes the wet towel over the towel rack to dry.

“Umm,” Geno says, still incredibly distracted. He shakes himself to clear his head then gestures to the window with the ward. “Yes, just going to …”

Sid steps back against the sink to let Geno by but it’s still a tight squeeze in the cramped space. Geno turns to the side and comes chest to chest with Sid, who smells like Geno’s shampoo and soap. Sid touches Geno’s hip as he goes by and Geno nearly trips on the bathmat as the heat of Sid's hand seeps through the fabric of his shirt. He manages to recover and sets the ward above the window.

“All set?” Sid asks and Geno nods.

“All safe.”

The animals race them downstairs, where the soup is simmering in on the stove.

Geno pulls a sleeve of crackers from the box on the counter while Sid grabs the bowls and spoons.

“Flower called,” Geno says as he hands Sid a ladle.

“Did he just wake up? He must have been pretty hung over.”

“He told me there are six more humans.”

Sid slowly dips the ladle back into the soup as his jaw clenches.

“Also wanted to know if you wanted to stay with him.”

Sid frowns as he begins to fill the second bowl. “Did you tell him I’m staying here?”

“Yes, but —”

“Do you want me to stay with him?”

“Might not be bad idea,” Geno begins. “Vampires have stronger magic and there is Flower and Vero plus the kids.”

“But do you want me to go?”

“Want you to be safe and comfortable.”

“You are keeping me safe.”

“Am trying, but —”

“Do you want me to go?” Sid asks again. Geno shakes his head.

“No,” he says. _Never_ , he thinks.

“Then I’ll stay,” Sid says simply as he hands Geno a full bowl of soup. “I don’t think I could get used to sleeping during the day again, anyways.”

They eat quietly at the kitchen table with Sam and Milla begging at their feet. Sid finishes first and waves Geno off when he tells him to leave the dishes in the sink for later.

Sid washes and dries while Geno feeds Milla and Geno puts the dishes away so Sid can feed Sam. After, Geno makes Sid stand just inside the back door, within the protection of the ward, when he lets Sam out into the backyard.

It’s not all that late by the time Sam comes in but it’s been a long day and Geno’s not the least bit surprised when Sid announces that he’s going to turn in.

“If you need anything —” Geno starts. Sid nods as he holds open the bedroom door and herds both Sam and Milla in.

“I know where you’ll be.”

“Serious, Sid. Even in middle of night.”

“I know,” Sid says softly before the room goes quiet and suddenly it feels like there’s more than just the kitchen table between them.

Geno hates it. He wants to cross the distance and wrap Sid up in his arms. He wants to press a kiss to his temple and lead him upstairs, where he’ll hold him close throughout the night.

Sid’s still standing in the doorway and Geno feels himself blushing and Sid smiles softly.

“Well,” Sid says, “I guess this is goodnight.”

Geno nods. “Goodnight, Sid.”

Sid’s smile dips for a moment into something bordering on sad before he steps into the guestroom.

Geno feels a bit lost after that.

He’s not sure what to do. He can’t remember what he used to do on nights when Sid wasn’t sleeping in his guest bedroom.

He tries to watch TV but he’s constantly worried that the volume is too loud even when it’s turned so low he can barely hear it. He tries to read but he can’t focus, too busy looking up from the couch and craning his neck so he can see into the dark kitchen.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep tonight — at least not all the way upstairs. It’s too far. He’ll never get his nerves to settle.

He paces a bit, trying to keep his footsteps light, then makes a loop around the house, double checking that none of the wards has fallen from a spot above a window or door.

He ends up falling asleep at the kitchen table, the contents of the junk drawer spread out and half organized in front of him.

He jerks awake to the soft snick of the back door unlocking.

“Sorry,” Sid whispers, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Geno rubs at his eyes and blinks at him. It’s still dark out and Sam is tap dancing at Sid’s feet.

“What time is it? What you doing?”

“It’s still late,” Sid says. “Almost two. I’m letting Sam out.”

“No, no, no,” Geno says as he stumbles to his feet. “You stay inside.”

“I was going to,” Sid says and Geno gives him a disbelieving look as he pulls Sid out of the doorway and safely into the house.

Geno steps out into the night and wraps his arms around his middle in an attempt to keep himself warm. The temperature has dropped quite severely and he has no idea if it’s just an abnormal weather pattern or the result of something more sinister.

“How’d you fall asleep at the kitchen table?” Sid asks. Geno looks over his shoulder to double check that Sid’s still standing well within the safety of the house.

“Guess I just … fall asleep.”

Sid looks unimpressed. “And you thought it was a good idea to reorganize the junk drawer this late at night?”

“Have to do it sometime,” Geno says as he follows Sam up the steps and into the house. He locks the door behind them and turns back to Sid, who is sliding the drawer back into place.

“Let's leave it to some other time,” Sid says. “You should get to bed.”

Geno looks over Sid’s shoulder at the stairs that lead up to his bedroom.

“Will in a little bit,” he says and Sid rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, G, I promise.”

“I’m know,” he says and Sid heaves a sigh.

“You can’t sleep at the kitchen table all night. Why don’t you just share with me?”

Geno’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“The bed is big enough,” Sid says. “We could, I mean, it wouldn’t bother me any …”

Geno shakes his head. He can’t do that. He’s already testing his limits with Sid in the house. Geno can’t imagine falling asleep and waking up beside him. He can’t run the risk of his fingers accidentally brushing against Sid’s sleep-warmed skin.

“Couch is okay,” Geno tells him and Sid nods.

“Okay. If you think that’ll make you more comfortable.”

The couch really isn’t long enough for his legs but it’s certainly a step up from sleeping hunched over at the table.

“Will be fine,” Geno tells him and they say goodnight for the second time.

Sid leaves the bedroom door open a crack and Geno tries to settle on the couch, feet dangling over the side.

He falls asleep, finally, while staring into the pitch black kitchen.

\-----

In the morning Milla is curled up and tucked behind his knees and the air smells of smoke.

Geno goes from asleep to awake in an instant. His legs are tangled in a blanket that he doesn’t remember draping over himself so he flails, Milla jumping onto the back of the couch with an annoyed wail as Geno attempts to get to his feet.

The smoke detector isn’t going off but he can’t remember the last time he replaced the batteries so he supposes it doesn’t mean much.

“Sid!” he yells. “Get up! Is fire!”

He kicks his feet free of the blanket and stands up just as Sid appears in the doorway between the living room and kitchen holding a spatula in his hand.

“What are you yelling about?”

“Fire,” Geno says as he rushes past Sid and into the kitchen, trying to find the source.

Instead of flames he finds a fully set kitchen table and a stack of pancakes sitting on a plate next to the stove.

“I’m making breakfast,” Sid says as he comes up behind him and gently nudges him out of the way so he can get to the stove. “I might have burned a couple,” he says as he flips another pancake.

Geno sniffs the air. The scent of smoke is strong.

“How many?”

“Three,” Sid says. “Plus five.”

Geno laughs. “Eight pancakes, Sid? You burn eight pancakes?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Sid snaps, twisting the knob on the back of the stove with an excessive amount of force to shut off the burner. “It’s not funny.”

“Is a little funny,” Geno says. “Finally found one thing you not good at. Guess you really are human.”

“It’s not my fault,” Sid scowls. “This burner runs hotter than my stove at home. There’s something wrong with it.”

Geno grins. “Sure, Sid.”

“It’s true,” Sid insists. “I’m gonna take this stove apart and fix it and then you’ll see.”

Geno laughs again but stops abruptly when he sees the newspaper on the table. He doesn’t love that Sid went outside alone to get it but that worry is quickly replaced with another when he reads the headline on the front page.

The number of cursed has ballooned to twenty-five overnight.

“You read this?” Geno asks and Sid looks over his shoulder and shakes his head.

“No,” he says tightly. “I didn’t feel like I had to.” He sighs and turns to the table with the plate of pancakes in his hands. “There aren’t going to be any humans left to curse soon.”

The thought makes Geno’s chest seize but Sid just sighs and sets the plate down on the table.

“We should eat before it gets cold.”

It’s raining by the time they get to Dome Knigy. Sid immediately heads into the back to make himself a cup of coffee while Geno sidesteps Sam, who shakes herself dry.

“Do you want something,” Sid calls and Geno shakes his head as he turns his laptop on.

“Am fine,” Geno yells back as he enters his password and waits for the internet to connect, taking longer than usual.

“You sure? I mean, I’m getting pretty good at this thing. If you ever decide to get this thing up and running for customers I could be your barista.”

Geno smiles as the internet finally connects. “Along with everything else you do for everyone else?”

“You know you’re my top priority,” Sid says and Geno’s heart thuds in his chest as he clicks open his email. “Anything good,” Sid asks, stepping up beside him, mug cupped between his hands and Geno nods then shakes his head, Sid’s words still replaying in his mind.

Geno quickly scans the emails. There aren’t many, he’s managed to keep his business account fairly clean when it comes to spam mail but a few have managed to slip through, boasting deals on printer paper or a coupon for the pens he always buys. He tries to remember to come back to that one as he clicks on the email below it, a response from one of his contacts about the old books.

Alena is an old school friend from back home who is currently working on her PhD. It’s hard to imagine that she would have any time for frivolous endeavors especially at the request of someone who lives across the world but when he clicks open the email he reads that she’s willing to give it a try.

“Have someone that will look at books,” Geno says, turning to Sid. He’s surprised to find him so close, leaning on the counter beside him, brow furrowed as he stares at the cryllic on the screen. “Is an old friend from back home,” Geno explains. “Very smart. Very lucky she responded. Says she can’t promise, but she will try.”

“So what do you do now?”

Geno heaves a sigh. “Now, I copy each page and email them back.”

“That seems like a lot of work,” Sid says as he eyes the book, some of which are multiple inches thick. “You can’t just mail them to her?”

“To Russia,” Geno says with a laugh, “will take far too long. Is safer this way, too. Won’t get lost and fall into wrong hands and if they are really bad, is better to read copies instead of real thing.”

“So why not just sell the copies and burn the originals?”

“Am not selling bad magic at my shop, Sid. Even if it is just copies.”

“Okay,” Sid says, “you know best.” He sighs and looks back to the books. “This really isn’t a two person job, is it?”

Geno grimaces and Sid lays his hand across Geno’s arm.

“It’s okay,” Sid says, hand still on Geno’s skin. “I’ll find something else to do.”

Sid’s hand slides away slowly as he passes behind Geno, too close to be anything other than on purpose. Geno takes a sharp breath and watches him until he’s curled up in one of the chairs, body facing the window and Sam at his feet. The heat from Sid's touch lingers on his skin. 

Geno works, or at least he tries to. It’s hard to make any kind of headway when he keeps looking up to check in on Sid. Sid is quiet, and Geno knows he would never complain, but it’s obvious that he’s bored out of his mind and the guilt Geno feels is immense.

“Could call Flower or Tanger,” he says as he copies another page. He’s nearly halfway through the first book, the one he snatched away from Sid the other day. “Could hang out with them.”

“Flower is probably asleep,” Sid says as he thumbs through a travel book that Geno knows he’s looked at before.

“Could still call him,” Geno says. “Is cloudy out. He could be awake.”

“I’m fine, G. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Wouldn’t be a babysitter. What about Tanger? He is fun.”

Sid huffs a laugh as the door opens and the man in question walks in.

“Speak of the devil,” Geno says and Tanger grins and shakes the water out of his hair just like Sam.

“Close,” Tanger says, “but not quite.” He turns and kicks the back of Sid’s chair. “Thanks for letting me know you’re still alive. I texted you like a million times.”

“I texted you,” Sid says, sitting up and twisting around in the chair. “You didn’t text me back.”

Tanger pulls out his phone and frowns down at it. “I have no service. Must be the storm.”

“Tanger,” Geno says, “should take Sid somewhere. Is nothing for him to do here.”

“I’m fine,” Sid tells them. “Really.”

“You want me to babysit?” Tanger asks. Geno nods.

“Yes, kind of.”

Sid gasps. “You told me it’s not like babysitting.”

“Sid,” Tanger says as he raises his index finger against his lips, “quiet. The grownups are speaking.”

Sid flips him off and Tanger laughs.

“Sid,” Geno says, leaning over the counter to get a clear sight line. “Can’t just sit here all day. Know you hate it. Go with Tanger. He can keep you safe.”

Sid’s quiet for a moment as he looks out the window, watching the water run down the glass. “Fine,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “You’re taking me to the grocery store. I’m making dinner tonight.”

“Don’t have to do that,” Geno says and Sid shakes his head.

“I’ve seen what’s in your fridge. It’s not impressive. Call when you’re ready to come home and we’ll come pick you up.”

“Can walk,” Geno says. Sid rolls his eyes as he pulls his jacket from the coat rack.

“We’ll come get you.” He pats his thigh and Sam stands up. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to this,” Tanger says as Sid wraps his hand around his arm and pulls him toward the door.

“Tanger,” Geno calls and Tanger pulls back. “If anything happens to him —”

“I know, I know,” Tanger says. “You’ll kill me.”

“Am serious.”

“Relax,” Tanger tells him. “If anything happens I’ll just, you know.” He points to the ceiling and whistles and Sid shakes his head.

“I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s never stopped me before.” He pushes Sid toward the door. “Now let's go.”

Geno had thought it would be easier to work without looking up and checking on Sid every other minute but, with him gone and out of sight, Geno finds himself worrying more and more.

He knows Tanger and he trusts him with his life, but it’s different when it’s Sid. It’s more important.

Still, he knows the work he’s doing has to be done and the last thing he wants to do is smother Sid. Maybe he wants some space.

Geno takes a breath and forces himself to focus on the task at hand. The sooner he finishes the sooner he can go home.

He puts his head down and powers through, taking care to make sure each page is legible when it’s copied while also making sure he doesn’t attempt to read any of the words.

He has to stop a few times while the lights flicker and the internet clicks off and back on again. He works through lunch, ignoring the rumbling of his stomach. When he finally sets the last book down he sends another email thanking Alena for the work she’s about to do. He tells her there’s no rush, really, and little bit about what’s been happening in the town. _Have other things on my mind,_ he writes, _but would be nice to take care of this, too._

By the time he hits send it’s an hour before closing and he decides that’s enough for today.

It’s still storming out and, despite previously agreeing to Sid’s demand to call him for a ride, he doesn’t see the point in dragging Sid out of the safety of the house when Geno lives close enough to walk.

Geno digs out the spare umbrella that he keeps in the back for emergencies then double bags his laptop in plastic to make sure it stays dry.

He pulls on his jacket by the front door and tucks his phone deep into the front pocket, knowing he’s in for a miserable trek home. He waits for what looks like a break in the deluge then makes a break for it.

The umbrella doesn’t do much to protect him from the heavy downpour and, by the time he turns onto his block, he has abandoned it completely.

He’s soaked and chilled through to the bone by the time he opens the front door. He’s hit with a rush of warm air that smells absolutely heavenly.

He drops his keys into the bowl by the door then hangs his jacket on the hook, kicks off his sopping-wet shoes and peels off his socks, leaving them to dry on the radiator. He takes his phone out of his jacket pocket, happy to see that it’s still dry, and ventures farther into the house, hoping his laptop made it through, as well.

He sniffs at the air as he unties the plastic bags, smelling butter and herbs and freshly baked bread, and his stomach rumbles. Without Sid there to remind him, he ended up skipping lunch, so the last time he ate was breakfast.

“Sid!” Geno calls out. Sid responds almost immediately.

“In the kitchen!” he yells back, followed by “you’re early” and “I told you to call.”

“Sorry,” Geno yells, not feeling very sorry at all as he slides his laptop out. It looks fine. That walk home caused him no harm. “Really wasn’t that bad of a trip,” he calls. He stops short when he sees Tanger stretched out on the couch in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table and a tumbler of scotch resting on his stomach. Sam is curled up beside him but, when she sees Geno, she jumps down and wanders into the kitchen. Tanger laughs.

“I can’t believe you’re in a feud with a 13-year-old Labrador Retriever.”

“Is wolf thing,” Geno says. “Wouldn’t understand.” He sets his phone and laptop down on the table then purposefully walks between the couch and the table, knocking Tanger’s feet down. “Glad you make yourself at home. Enjoying my liquor?”

“Payment for babysitting,” Tanger says as he knocks back the rest of the drink before getting to his feet. “I should get going. Get out of your hair.”

“You not staying for dinner?”

Tanger laughs and presses the glass into Geno’s hand. “I have been told that I am definitely not invited.”

“By who?” Geno asks. Tanger nods toward the kitchen. Geno can hear Sid moving around, humming to himself as he opens and closes the oven door. “Doesn’t sound like Sid.”

“Tonight it definitely is. It’s just as well, being a third wheel is a bad look.”

Geno groans. “You been talking to Flower?”

“No,” Tanger says. “Well, yeah, but not about this. Not exclusively. I did spend most of the day with Sid, however, and I have a pretty good idea about what he wants to happen tonight.”

Geno feels his face flush. “Sid say something?”

“Not explicitly, but I don't think he really has to. He’s making you dinner.”

“As a thank you.”

“The first part of a thank you, maybe.”

“Tanger.”

“Come on,” Tanger says, “don’t ruin this for yourself. Sid likes you and I know you like him.”

 _Like_ is too weak a word. “Now is bad time.”

“When you’re scared it’s always a bad time. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

Geno wants to argue because of course it does. He wants to map out all the ways this could go wrong because he’s thought of them all, usually while lying awake at night and staring at the ceiling.

“Tanger,” Sid says from the entry to the kitchen. He’s in socked feet with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder and he’s shooting daggers at Tanger. “You’re still here?”

“Just leaving,” Tanger says with his hands up.

“Will walk you out,” Geno says as Sid sighs and goes back into the kitchen. “You okay to make it home?” Geno asks as they stop in the hallway so Tanger can pull on his shoes. He doesn’t bother with his jacket even though rain is still coming down in buckets outside.

Tanger nods and jabs his thumb over his shoulder, where his wings are still tucked out of sight. “These things have been to hell and back, literally. I think they can make it through a storm.” He finishes tying the lace of his left shoe and stands up. “Hey,” he says softly. “I know it sounded like I was giving you shit before but I’m serious. You’re a good guy and you deserve to be happy. I feel like you haven’t been for a long time now.”

“Am fine,” Geno says quietly and Tanger sighs.

“All right. I’m not gonna push.” Tanger opens the front door and Geno steps back as a gust of wind sweeps the rain inside. “Have a good night,” he says, “whatever that might mean.”

“Kris,” Geno calls for him just as Tanger gets a foot out the door. “Thank you for watching after him today. If something happened to him …” He trails off with a shake of his head. He can’t even imagine.

“I know,” Tanger says softly. “He’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Geno nods and swallows the lump of emotion in his throat as Tanger steps out into the rain. Geno steps forward and watches as Tanger’s wings spread out from his back, startling white against the dark sky. The feathers flutter in the wind as Tanger stretches them out parallel to the Earth before he uses them to push himself up and off the ground. Geno watches until Tanger disappears into the low-hanging clouds, then he shuts and locks the front door.

Sid’s taking a sheet pan filled with perfectly golden brown dinner rolls out of the oven when Geno walks in.

“Anything I can do to help?” Geno asks as Sid shakes his hand after trying to lift a still too hot roll off the pan and into a bowl.

“Did Tanger leave?” Sid asks. “He said he had somewhere to be. I don’t want him to be late.”

It’s a lie, and it sounds so blatant coming out of Sid’s honest mouth.

“He gone. Should have seen his wings,” Geno says, venturing farther into the kitchen. The table is set, complete with two white pillar candles and a bottle of expensive red wine.

“They really something.”

“I know,” Sid says as he slides the rolls into the bowl. “Sometimes he’ll show them off in front of Flower, you know; because his are so big and Flower’s are so small.”

Geno laughs. “Sounds like Tanger,” Geno says as he peeks into Sid’s room, where Sam and Milla are curled up together on the dog bed.

“I fed them already,” Sid explains as he sets the rolls down on the table. “And Tanger had Sam out quite a bit so I think she’s out for the rest of the night. Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “I stayed inside.” He looks over at Geno and frowns. “Do you want to take a shower before dinner? You have time.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re dripping on the floor,” Sid points out and Geno looks down at the small puddle at his feet.

Maybe he should go dry off.

He leaves his wet clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor then stands in front of his closet, trying to figure out what to wear.

He wants to look good but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s trying too hard. Sid might expect him to reappear in sweats.

He settles on a clean pair of jeans and his second favorite sweater then spritzes a pump of cologne on his neck before he reapplies deodorant and fusses with his hair in front of the mirror.

When he’s as satisfied as he’s going to get, he goes back downstairs to find the table set with food and Sid lighting the candles.

“You look nice,” Sid says with a smile. “Sit down. Everything is ready.”

“Can’t remember last time someone cook for me,” Geno says as Sid uncorks and pours the wine.

“It’s really no big deal. Just roast chicken with vegetables and rolls.”

“You make rolls from scratch?”

Sid fills his own glass and sits down opposite Geno. He looks lovely in candle light. “Yes.”

“But is no big deal,” Geno teases and Sid takes a sip of wine to mask his smile. “Really didn’t have to do all this, Sid.”

“I wanted to,” Sid says. “You deserve it.”

Like everything else Sid touches, dinner is perfect and Sid blushes and ducks his head when Geno tells him so.

“Am serious,” Geno tells him. “Everything you do is just … don’t know how you do it. Amazing.”

“I’m just glad you like it,” Sid says. “After everything you’ve done for me it feels like the least I could do. You know I love Tanger and Flower and there are a lot of good people in this town, but it feels like you’re always there for me. Like I can always count on you.”

Now it was Geno’s turn to blush. “You my best friend,” he says simply. “Would do anything for you.”

Sid smiles softly, his fingertips twirl the stem of the glass. “You know, there’s dessert, too.”

“Best friend,” Geno tells him. “Best, best friend.”

They eat dinner and dessert (individual apple crisps in ramekins that Geno didn’t remember owning) and talk about nothing of importance. Memories of Sid’s first year in town and stupid shit Tanger and Flower have gotten into. They don’t talk about the curse.

Beneath the table their feet and knees knock together one too many times to be considered accidental.

Geno helps clear the table and load the dishwasher once they’re done eating. Sid tries to put up a fight but Geno levels him with a stare and threatens to kick him out of the kitchen altogether since he was the one who cooked.

Geno loads the dishwasher while Sid hand washes anything that either won’t fit or is too delicate. He pauses when he gets to their wine glasses and looks back toward the bottle of wine. There’s enough left for a few more glasses, at least.

“You know,” Sid says as Geno closes the dishwasher drawer, “we really shouldn’t let the wine go to waste. You feel like helping me finish it off while we watch a movie?”

Fifteen minutes later Geno finds himself sitting ramrod straight on the couch, glass of wine clenched tightly in his hands while Sid lounges casually beside him, head on the armrest and feet in Geno’s lap.

Geno’s not sure what movie he agreed to watch, not that it matters. The only things he can concentrate on are the soft sighs Sid makes between sips of wine and the way his feet keep creeping up Geno’s thigh.

Every nerve in Geno’s body tenses as he brain races to come up with an alternate explanation as to what is happening. He knows what Tanger said and he recognizes how Sid is acting and everything seems so obvious as Sid’s foot climbs higher still but even then … this is Sid and guys like Sid don’t do this with guys like Geno.

Sid leans over the edge of the couch and reaches for the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Do you want more?” he asks Geno. When Geno shakes his head, Sid pours the rest into his glass.

Sid settles back against the armrest, wiggling his shoulders a bit to get comfortable as his right foot slips forward and his heel digs into Geno’s inner thigh.

Geno acts on instinct and grabs Sid’s ankle with his free hand and Sid gasps quietly as they lock eyes.

Slowly, Geno leans forward and sets his glass down on the table then grips Sid’s foot with his now-free hand, never taking his eyes off Sid.

Sid’s foot is warm and feels oddly delicate cradled in his palm as he presses his fingertips into the arch. Sid takes a deep breath and Geno’s eyes slide away from Sid’s to watch Sid’s chest rise and fall.

“Okay?” Geno asks. Sid nods, pink tongue darting out to wet his wine-stained lips.

Geno moves his hands up to squeeze at Sid’s toes before he drags it back down again, curling his fingers so he can roll his knuckles against the sole of Sid’s foot.

Sid’s eyes flutter shut as his mouth drops open. “That feels good,” he says on a breathy sigh. He tips his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. “Maybe a little bit harder.”

Geno can’t feel his fingers. He can’t feel his arms or his legs or his toes. He feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience, like someone else is sitting here on his couch, drawing these soft, little noises out of Sid with an innocent touch.

“You’re so good at this,” Sid tells him as he flexes his foot and pushes it farther into Geno’s hands. “Fuck, Geno,” he gasps as Geno hits a particularly tender spot and Geno decides he can’t take any more.

“Have to go,” he says, standing abruptly and dropping Sid’s foot onto the couch. Geno has to get out. He needs air. He needs space. He needs something to do with his hands other than touching Sid. “Think I have to shift.”

Sid looks stunned, eyebrows knit together and mouth dropped open. It takes him a minute to come to. “You what?”

“Have to shift,” Geno says, already making his way to the back door. He can hear Sid following behind him. “Won’t be gone long but don’t wait up.”

“You have to go now?” Sid asks. “Right now?”

“Yes,” Geno says distractedly as he unlocks the door.

A clap of thunder is quickly followed by a flash of lightning. “It’s storming out.”

“Wolves don’t care. Is instinct. Is something about the moon,” he rambles.

“You have to go, though? You can’t just shift here? I don’t care, Geno, it doesn’t bother me. I’m worried —”

“You will be fine,” Geno assures him. “Don’t go outside. Stay in house.”

“I’m worried about _you_ ,” Sid tells him. “Geno, if I was being inappropriate —”

Geno cuts him off. “Is not about you. Is about me.” He takes a breath as he steps out into the rain. It feels like bullets pelting his skin and he picks up his pace to a jog as he crosses the backyard, pulling his sweater over his head as he runs. Once he reaches the treeline where he’s sure Sid can’t see him, he peels his jeans down his legs and kicks them off. When he glances over his shoulder he can see Sid standing just inside the doorway, the light from the kitchen pooling around him.

Sid scans the yard with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The wind blows and thunder claps up above and Sid shakes his head as he steps back and closes the door with his foot.

Geno shifts just to relieve the itch beneath his skin and plops down in the mud. He has no interest in stretching his legs and taking off. He can’t imagine ever taking his eyes off the house and leaving Sid vulnerable like that.

The wind shakes the limbs of the trees above him, sending rain down in big, fat drops, and Geno shuffles closer to the trunk for protection.

He’s embarrassed. The feeling settles into his gut, heavy and cold as he curls up and tucks the tip of his nose beneath his tail.

He doesn’t know what to do with this … he doesn’t know how to handle affection. It’s been so long …

He shuts his eyes, briefly, as the rain continues to fall around him, his thick coat doing it’s best to keep him warm.

With no moon to follow, he loses track of time but eventually he sees the light in the spare room turn on and off again and he assumes Sid has gone to bed. He waits and watches a while longer, just to make sure, then he stands and shifts, toes digging into the mud beneath his feet.

His jeans and his sweater are a lost cause, sopping wet and filthy, and he doesn’t try to pull either of them onto his body before he slowly opens the back door.

The house is quiet and dark, most of the lights save the one above the stove have been shut off. It shines just bright enough for Geno to see the clean bath towel that Sid has left on the kitchen table.

Geno tucks his wet clothes between his knees so he can grab the towel and scrub at his hair. He dries off his shoulders and arms then wraps it around his waist and holds his wet clothes against it so they don’t drip onto the floor.

Sid’s door is fully shut so he quietly thanks the empty room before he tiptoes up the stairs.

He showers thoroughly, scrubbing between his toes and around his ankles before standing beneath the spray until he feels like he’s thawed out and his skin looks red and feels tender.

He dries off with a clean towel and quickly walks naked back to his room, bare skin goose-pimpling in the cool air of the house.

He flips on the light in his bedroom and jumps back when he sees Sid sitting on the end of his bed, legs crossed and leaning back on his hands.

Geno yelps and rips the towel away from his neck and holds it around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself.

Sid rolls his eyes at the dramatics and uncrosses his legs.

“What you doing here?” Geno asks, heart still pounding. “Were downstairs.”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” Sid says as he sits forward. “I listened for you to get in the shower then I came up. I figured you couldn't run away from me up here.”

“Didn’t run,” Geno says and Sid rolls his eyes.

“You literally jumped off the couch and bolted out the door into a thunderstorm.”

“Didn’t run,” Geno says again and Sid scoffs. “Didn’t,” Geno insists. “Shifted but only went as far as woods. Could see the house the whole time. Is how I know you went to bed.”

Sid blinks at him. “Then why go out at all?”

“Just …” Geno’s fingers fiddle with the knot in the towel. “Had to get away.”

“From me?”

“Not about you, Sid.”

“It feels like it’s about me. I don’t get it,” Sid says with a shake of his head. “If you didn’t like what I was doing —”

“What were you doing?”

Sid’s shoulders fall. “It’s pretty obvious isn’t it?”

Geno shakes his head. “No. Not to me. I mean, know what Tanger said.”

Sid narrows his eyes. “What did Tanger say?”

Geno shrugs. “Just … you know Tanger.”

Sid leans his elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands as he shakes his head. “Neither one of us are saying anything.”

“What you want me to say?” Geno asks. “What are you trying to say?”

Sid’s quiet for a moment, the tips of his fingers disappearing briefly into his hair before he pulls them out and looks up at Geno.

“I love you,” Sid says and Geno blinks.

He’s sure he’s misheard. It’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of his own heart.

“Sid—” he starts, set on asking for clarification. Sid shakes his head.

“I’m in love with you,” Sid says and Geno hears that crystal clear. “I think I have been since I first saw you, when you sent me away to Flower’s. I wanted to stay. I just wanted you to want me to stay.”

“I did want,” Geno says. “Didn’t have the money to pay you.”

Sid laughs, sounding hollow and just a bit broken. “Right then I didn’t care. I probably didn’t even remember the question I asked you. I just.” He stops and heaves a sigh that tips his whole body forward. “I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all so if you don’t want me like that—”

Geno falls to his knees in front of Sid, the towel bunching and slipping but he doesn’t care. He cradles Sid’s head in his hands and lifts Sid’s chin. “Love you,” he says. “How you ever think anything else?”

Sid sways forward and presses his lips to Geno’s. Sid immediately pulls him back, wasting no time, and Geno follows, hesitating only when the towel slips all the way off.

Sid pulls his shirt off, trying to even the playing field, and Geno feels miles out of his league, unsure of where to look or put his hands. Sid just kisses him and kisses him, hitching his leg around Geno’s hip. Everything falls into place.

After, Geno tries to keep his eyes open, tries to stay awake and talk and tell Sid all the things he feels for him. He wants to say all the words he’s been bottling up, but Sid kisses his forehead and tells him to sleep and Geno drifts off with Sid’s fingernails raking through his hair.

When he blinks awake and turns his head, it’s still dark and Sid’s still lying next to him, hands tucked beneath the pillow and a soft smile on his lips.

Geno can still hear the rain hitting the roof.

“What time?” Geno mumbles. Sid shrugs.

“Late. Early. I don’t know exactly, but I’ll have to get up and let Sam out soon.”

“I’ll do,” Geno says. Sid rolls his eyes and reaches out, swiping his thumb against the corner of Geno’s mouth.

“You drool,” Sid says sounding fond. Geno feels his face heat. “It’s cute.”

“Half dog,” Geno tells him as an explanation. Sid smiles.

“About that. Why don’t you ever shift in front of me?”

Geno looks away and Sid lays his hand over Geno’s heart.

“I watched you last night,” Sid continues. “You went all the way to the edge of the woods before you changed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your other form. I’ve known you for years. I feel like I’m missing out.”

Geno shakes his head. “You not. Trust me.”

“I do,” Sid says. “But it’s a part of you.”

“Wish it wasn’t.”

“How could you say that? It’s special. It’s _you.”_

Geno huffs and throws a hand over his eyes. “Is not cute magic.”

Sid laughs. “What does that mean?”

“Means it is not like Flower, who gets to be furry little bat, or Tanger, who has wings sometimes. I am … I’m just big, hairy dog.”

“I like dogs,” Sid says. “I love them.”

“Not dog like Sam. Bigger. Ugly.”

“You could never be ugly.” Sid wraps his fingers around Geno’s wrists and pulls gently until he moves his hand. “I love you. All of you. You’re not going to scare me away.”

“You say that now …” He looks at Sid full and takes a deep breath. “Have to know how long it has been since I felt this close to someone. Been forever since I was in a pack.”

“There are other wolves in town,” Sid says. “You couldn’t have joined them?”

“Is more than just wolf. Have to feel comfortable and safe and trust them.”

“Well, don’t you feel that way with me and Flower and Tanger?”

“Yes,” Geno admits and Sid taps his fingers on Geno’s chest.

“Then haven’t you been in a pack this whole time? I mean, if I can find family with a group of vampires, an angel, and a wolf I’m pretty sure you can call them a pack.”

“Guess so,” Geno admits. Sid frowns.

“It makes me sad though,” Sid starts, “to think that you thought you were alone this whole time. That you were unhappy.”

“Wasn’t all bad,” Geno says, covering Sid’s hand with his own. “Had some good times?”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Geno hums and watches the corners of Sid’s mouth pull up. “Like the first time you come into the store,” he says, “and every time after that.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sid asks and Geno smiles and rolls, pinning Sid securely beneath him as they kiss.

It’s just beginning to turn heated when Sam barks from downstairs and Sid huffs against Geno’s lips.

“I gotta take her out,” he says and Geno kisses him.

“I’ll go,” Geno says before another kiss. “You stay.” He kisses Sid again, a little longer this time. “You stay just like this.” He cups Sid’s hip and squeezes and Sid pulls him back down at Sam barks again.

“Go,” Sid says, pushing him gently away. “I’ll wait.”

Regretfully, Geno climbs out of bed and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a decently clean T-shirt. He looks back at Sid, naked and rumpled in his bed, and has to shake his head and force himself to turn around so he doesn’t crawl back in beside him.

Sam is tap-dancing at the bottom of the stairs and, while she looks mildly put out that it’s Geno coming to her rescue instead of Sid, she must decide it doesn’t matter because she turns and hurries for the back door.

Geno follows, pausing to pick up his phone that he left on the coffee table. He frowns when he sees he has a dozen missed calls and voicemails from a number he doesn’t recognize.

He listens to the first one as he opens the back door and Sam heads out into the rain. He’s surprised when he hears Russian, the words blending together in their urgency, and it takes him another listen before he realizes who it is and what this is about.

 _“Evgeni,”_ Alena says, rushed and nervous, and Geno has no idea where she got his cell number. It’s not listed in the signature in his email. _“I started looking at the books you sent me,”_ she continues. _“I didn’t get past the first one. It’s bad, it’s really, really bad. What’s happening in your town, to the humans, I think it must be because of this. Did someone read this? Evgeni, if someone read this —”_

Geno drops the phone from his ear to his shoulder as he stops listening and thinks. The first book … the one he took from Sid … the one that Sid read from …

Geno’s blood goes cold and his fingers feel clumsy as he raises the phone just in time to hear Alena say that a reversal for the curse is hidden between the lines, starting from the bottom and skipping every other word.

Geno’s head spins. He can’t decipher what that means right now, he has to take this one step at a time.

With unsteady fingers he ends Alena’s voicemail and calls Flower, who picks up on the first ring and sounds nearly as panicked as Geno feels.

“Is everything okay?” Flower asks. Geno shakes his head as Sam wanders back into the house. He had almost forgotten about her.

“Need you to come here, now,” Geno says as he closes and locks the door.

“Why?” Flower asks, but Geno can hear Flower moving around on the other end. “Is Sid —”

“Sid’s fine,” Geno says quickly. “There is a book at my shop, have to go get it.”

“A book? In the middle of the night?”

Geno shakes his head again and stubs his toe on the leg of the kitchen chair. He hadn’t realized he’d been pacing around the table until the pain reminds him. “Has to do with curse. Think it is causing it.”

“How did that happen? Why do you have dark magic in your shop?”

“I don’t,” Geno says, suddenly feeling defensive. This is too long of a story to share right now. “Had some donated books, didn’t know what they were but now I know and I have to fix it.”

“So you read from books when you didn’t know what they were? You should know better.”

“I didn’t read them,” Geno snaps back, “Sid did, a little, just enough. Don’t know how but —”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Going to go get book. She said there is a reversal. Have to go find it but don’t want to leave Sid here alone.”

“Who is _she?_ ”

“Doesn’t matter now, just get here.”

“It’s going to be a while. I can’t fly in this wind and even driving —”

“As fast as you can,” Geno says. “I want to fix this.” He hangs up as Sam runs toward the front door, barking in a way that Geno’s never heard before. It’s sharp and desperate, and it makes Milla emerge from the spare room with her ears pinned back.

“Sam,” Geno calls, voice pitched low and quiet, trying to soothe her.“What’s wrong, girl?”

Sam is scratching at the front door with both paws, stopping only to throw her head back and howl in a way that makes the hair on Geno’s arms stand on end. He’s heard this before, during times of grief and mourning and he turns toward the stairs to call up to Sid.

“Should come down here,” Geno yells over Sam’s howling. “Don’t know what’s wrong. She was fine but now …” Geno stops and listens. There’s no response from Sid, no feet hitting the floor as he gets out of bed. “Sid!” Geno tries again as Sam jumps up and gets her front feet on the door. Geno looks at her just in time to see headlights backing out of the drive. He leans forward so he can look out the front window, shifting the thin curtain to the side. In a flash of lightning, he can see that Sid’s truck is gone.

“Shit,” Geno swears as he darts away from the window and makes a mad grab for his shoes, still damp from the walk home. There’s only one place Sid could be going and, when Geno reaches for his keys and finds the glass bowl empty, it confirms it.

He gets Sam away from the door by snapping at her to back up, shifting their dynamic as she bows her head and tucks her tail between her legs.

“I know,” Geno says, one foot out in the rain. “I’ll bring him back,” he promises.

Sid must have overheard his conversation with Flower, Geno thinks as his feet pound the pavement that leads to the shop. He must have come downstairs to see what was taking so long. Geno should have left his phone on the table. He shouldn’t have bothered. This could have waited until the morning if it meant that Sid would be safe.

Sid’s truck is parked haphazardly at the curb in front of the shop and Sid is standing in the middle of the flooded street, water flowing around his ankles as he holds the book in his hands.

“Sid,” Geno yells over the roar of the rain. “Stop!”

“I have to fix this!” Sid yells back. “This is my fault!”

Geno steps closer, water sloshing at his feet. “No, it’s not, is just … mistake. Was just a mistake, Sid. You didn’t know.”

“You said I read from this book and that’s why all this is happening, I heard you on the phone.”

Sid sounds like he’s crying but Geno can’t separate the tears from the water running down his face.

Geno holds his hand out toward Sid. “Sid, just give me book, okay? We can figure it out. We can take it to someone who knows what they are doing. They can fix it. Can worry about it in the morning. Right now, let's just go home.”

Sid twists away. “No! I have to fix this. It can’t go on any longer.” He opens the book but only gets so far as scanning the first page when the hooded figure appears in front of him, arm outstretched.

The book moves toward the figure on it’s own but Sid yanks it back, flipping it closed and clutching it against his chest. Geno tries to rush forward but the figure points his other arm toward him, freezing him in place. Geno can’t lift his feet off the pavement no matter how hard he tries.

The figure steps closer and Sid’s grip tightens on the book as the wind picks up around them and the rain pelts their skin like bullets.

“You can’t have this,” Sid yells. “I won’t let you take —” His words get cut off by a choking sound that bubbles out of his throat and rings loudly in Geno’s ear. Sid takes one hand off the book and raises it to his throat as his face turns an ugly shade of red. Sid falls to his knees and the book slips in his grip as Geno watches thick, black lines travel up and down Sid’s arms and curl around the back of his neck as his head bows.

Geno knows he has to do something. If he doesn’t, at best, Sid will wind up like the rest of the humans who have been cursed. At worst … Geno shudders to think of it. That’s not an option.

He tries as hard as he can to lift his feet but there’s no way he can break free of whatever hold the figure has on him. His only hope is that he can shift and fight magic with magic.

It’s not easy. The dark magic pulls at the seams of his skin, trying to stop him from changing, but Geno takes a breath and concentrates, pushing the dark magic away so he can focus on his own body.

It takes time but finally he finds himself down on all fours. He lifts each paw, grateful to see that he can do so, then charges full speed at the figure, water flying up all around him.

He hits the figure from the side and disrupts its hold on Sid just enough for Sid to take a deep, gasping breath and relief floods through Geno.

It’s short lived, however, as the figure regains its composure and lifts an arm, sending Geno flying through the air. He lands against Sid's truck, hard enough that he feels something in his shoulder crack and his head swims with pain. He feels nauseous and dizzy and, when he looks up, he sees two of Sid climbing unsteadily to his feet. It looks like his hands are glowing but Geno’s sure that’s the concussion talking.

“Don’t touch him,” Geno hears Sid say through the fog that’s sinking into his mind. He blinks and the two Sids become one again as he comes closer, hands up and glowing gold. The figure is trapped between the two of them, the book forgotten behind Sid somewhere in the water. Geno tries to get himself up but a flash of pain keeps him down. Whatever happens next will be out of his control. “Don’t ever touch him,” Sid shouts, voice low and angry as Sid’s hands glow brighter as a ball of light forms between them. It shoots outward toward the figure as a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. The figure bursts into thousands of tiny sparks as the rain and the wind stops.

The clouds part and the moon and the stars shine down on them, revealing that there’s nothing left of the figure aside from a few lone sparks that fall and fizzle out in the now-calm water that blankets the streets.

Sid runs forward and kneels beside Geno, carefully pulling his head onto his lap and digging his warm hands into Geno’s fur as the black marks on Sid’s skin slowly fade into nothingness.

“Are you okay?” Sid asks. “Are you all right?”

Geno groans and shifts back to his human form as his shoulder flares with pain. He shakes his head but stops when Sid lays his hands on either side of his face to steady him.

“Sid,” Geno says, voice thick like gravel. “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Sid pulls his hands back and stares down at them with wide eyes. “Neither did I.”


	2. Epilogue

“It just feels like cheating.”

Geno smiles and shakes his head as he drops a hammer into Sid’s outstretched hand.

“Is not cheating,” Geno tells him.

“But it feels like it,” Sid says, pausing to slam the hammer against the metal of the oven a few times. “I learned how to fix all this stuff and now I can just wave my hands and it’ll be done? Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the challenge?”

Geno bows his head and laughs softly. Sid’s not anywhere near close to being able to wave his hands and fix anything right now, but he’s getting better every day. He’s getting stronger and more confident in his magic and, when he feels a little down about how long it’s taking, Geno is right there to lift him back up.

They both know it can take time when magic finds you at a later stage in life, especially when it’s been triggered by strong emotions, and Sid checked nearly every emotional box imaginable that night — love, fear, anger, guilt, and just about everything in between in a short amount of time. The magic had hit him hard once the adrenaline had worn off, once he knew Geno’s injuries were minor and the book was now filled with blank pages and Jake and the rest of the humans were awake at the hospital and things could go back to normal.

The rush of new magic had left his hands burning and his heart pounding as he sat on Geno’s couch, Flower and Vero and Tanger fluttering around him and Sam across his feet.

Geno had kicked them all out, except for Sam, with a promise to call in the morning before hauling Sid against his body.

Sid had tucked his face into the curve of Geno’s neck and it didn’t take long at all for Geno to feel hot tears fall against his skin.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Sid had cried, emotions spilling over. “How am I supposed to figure this out?”

“Together,” Geno had told him. “We figure out together,” and held him even tighter.

“Magic is part of you,” Geno tells him now, the same way he’s told him dozens of times before, “even when you can wave your hands and fix everything like that —.” He stops and snaps his fingers. “Is still special because you are the one doing it. No one else can do magic exactly like you. Is like fingerprint, you know. Special.”

Sid was quiet for a moment as he mulled that over. “Yeah, yeah,” he said sarcastically but Geno was sure he had hit the right nerve. “I get it, but I’m still going to do things the old-fashioned way.”

Geno laughs and squeezes Sid’s ankle. “Sounds like you,” Geno says and Sid hums from his spot wedged between the wall and the back of the oven. “Everything okay back there?”

“It’s fine,” Sid says. “I guess. I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Geno never does. Sid’s taken responsibility for turning Geno’s dream of adding a cafe to the book store into a reality by cashing in a few favors in exchange for a gently used and slightly dented commercial-grade oven and refrigerator. The fridge had hummed to life as soon as they plugged it in but the oven has been putting up a fight that Sid refuses to lose because that’s where his real magic lies. Stubbornness lined with selflessness.

Geno leans against the side of the oven and listens to Sid shift around back there. He sighs and Sid immediately stretches his foot out and taps their shoes together.

“Are you okay?” Sid asks. “You’ve gone quiet.”

Geno nods and looks around the back room, taking stock of all the hours of work he and Sid have put into this already. The cleaning and organizing, the phone calls to both of their mothers collecting recipes, the wall that Sid had to knock down to make room. If he fails at this …

“Having doubts.” Geno admits.

“About what?”

“About all this. What if it’s too big?”

“You’re worried it’s too big for you to handle?” Sid asks. Geno seizes the opportunity and squeezes Sid’s thigh.

“Am used to handling big things,” he teases and Sid laughs dryly. “Am just thinking,” Geno says seriously, his fingers tapping idly against Sid’s leg. “You put in a lot of work here.”

“So have you,” Sid points out.

“Yes but —”

“G,” Sid interrupts, “when I said that you were my top priority, I meant it. I want to be here. I want to help you. You’re not keeping me from anything, okay?”

Geno nods and leans forward to press a kiss to the bend of Sid’s knee before resting his cheek against it. “You too much, Sid.”

“For you? Never.” Sid’s leg slides a bit as he sits up and comes into view. He’s a little sweaty and dirty but that doesn’t stop Geno from reaching for him, sliding his hand around the back of Sid’s neck so he can pull him in for a kiss. “It might be scary,” Sid says softly, his warm fingers curling around Geno’s wrists, “but we can figure it out, we can make it work. Together.”


End file.
